


Flight

by MapleleafCameo



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: AU, Beating, Bullying, Flying, Happy Ending, Homophobic Language, Loosely based on Dragonriders of Pern, M/M, Magical Realism, More inspired by, Multi, Science Fiction & Fantasy, Slow Burn, Some angst, There will be kissing!, Threats of Violence, Violence, Wings, zimbits - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-07-22
Packaged: 2018-09-09 06:24:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8879383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleleafCameo/pseuds/MapleleafCameo
Summary: New Earth was suppose to be a fresh start for humans and it was until a deadly, ancient creature came out of a century long hibernation to attack the colonists. Their only hope was the formation of winged soldiers who patrolled the sky, defending the inhabitants of the colony. Eric Bittle dreamed that someday he could join their ranks and protect his people.





	1. Someday

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah -I know - I am hopeless XD  
> But I'm off for two weeks soon so I should be able to do lots of writing XD
> 
> All characters are the creation of the amazing and wonderful [Ngozi](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com) from her webcomic [Check, Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com).

Eric lay on the grass, arms pillowing his head. The sky held clouds tinged slightly golden and brilliantly white on a painted blue backdrop. The grass under his back both scratchy and soothing at the same time and filled his nose with its spicy, pungent smell. Closing his eyes momentarily, he absorbed the warmth of the sun, imagined storing it in his body to savour over the cold winter.

 

The late afternoon light gave everything that slightly soft, sleepy quality and the whir of canja ducks as they made their way back to the pond behind his parents farm told him if he didn't get up and get back there to help with dinner he'd miss out on the picnic on Settlement Day next Seventh Day.

 

Every two or three days, when he thought he could get away with it, Eric snuck out to the meadow where he could see the open sky in the hopes they would be flying overhead, in formation, high enough to watch the ground and air, watch and protect. He'd done this since the spring he'd turned four when a squadron had flown past his house, the setting sun glistening off bronze, the flap of that many wings shaking the air, the cry of the Captain as he shouted orders back over, incoherent from the ground.

 

The sun lowered enough so that Eric moved one of his arms from behind his head to shade his eyes. He only had about another minute left before he’d catch all hells if he didn’t get moving. Lying there, he thought about how thrilling it would be to see them again. His mouth turned down in a frown. It was a two-edged sword wanting to join the Wings. Wanting to fly.

 

At fourteen, he veered toward a shade on the short side. Maybe in a few years, he’d be tall enough and working the farm gave him muscles long and lean making him stronger than he looked. But that wasn't the only reason it could be dangerous joining the Wings.

 

The talk in his small village, in his House of Worship, about the Wings, that although they protected everyone, saved them from the Rak'ka, the membership had loose morals; given anything, given anyone they wanted as fair compensation for risking their lives.

 

A thrill of unknown something fluttered through his stomach.

 

He felt himself flush, wondering what some of those things were that they explored in the Eyrie homes of the Wings.

 

He bit his lip. His father would more than tan his hide, beat the feelings out of him if he had any inkling Eric had such thoughts.

 

Standing up and brushing grass and dirt off his loose work trousers and under shirt, he glanced a final time at the sky wistfully. He would be a few minutes late, but it was worth it, worth it to try and get a glimpse, worth it to get yelled at, perhaps have his ear cuffed. Worth it to dream of escaping from here to anywhere, any place that wasn’t the farm.

 

With a heavy sigh, he trudged back to the farm and the never-ending dullness of toil and work.

 

Maybe tomorrow he’d see them. Maybe tomorrow they'd swoop down out of the sky and claim him as one of their own. 

 

Maybe.

 


	2. Farm Boy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for homophobic and threatening language.

“Dicky! Outta bed! I need help with the baking, and the grains are ready for first harvest. Your father’ll be wanting you!”

 

The light from the oil lamp his mother left behind brightened the back room where Eric slept. He groaned softly and stretched under the warm furs covering him. The air this deep in the caverns was cool and slightly damp. As he threw back the covers, the air hit his naked skin, making his flesh prickle. He would have to start wearing a sleep shirt again as the planet spun toward winter. After a second bone cracking stretch, he bent down to hunt for his clothes, soft worn work trouser, woven shirt, and boots.

 

The four years since Eric lay in the meadow and wished for the Wings to find him had left their mark on him. Only slightly taller, the hard work of the farm had given him more defined muscles and strength. Moving with a particular grace that spoke of someone quick on their feet and sure of their movements, he dressed and used the convenience before heading for the kitchen hearth, where his mother had a roaring fire blazing up, ready for the day’s baking. He grabbed a cup of coffee, added sweetening and helped himself to a bowl of her rich porridge complete with some of the last of the fresh fruit. He would be making do with dried for the rest of the season. Not that he minded. Living on a successful farm meant they often had more than enough to eat, even as they'd wait for spring to come around again.

 

He handed his empty mug and bowl to one of the kitchen help and stepped over to the wooden counter where his mother had already mixed the dough for the bread. The dough already risen, was quickly shaped into four loaves and placed on the wooden paddle. His mother came over, smiled at him and took it to the bake oven, built into the wall by the hearth. Eric had just enough time to take the pastry she’d mixed and shape three pie crusts. His mother would fill them with fruit after he’d left for the grain fields. They would be ready for the noon meal and he’d get a few more ready before heading back to finish the day’s harvest. If he wasn’t completely exhausted when they returned he’d make some sweets for the worship service in three days time. He enjoyed baking and knew it helped his mother, even though his father sometimes frowned at him when he saw him working in the farm’s kitchens.

 

As if drawn by his thoughts, Richard Bittle appeared in the entryway. “Junior, you ready yet? Day’s wasting. We have to get this grain in today.”

 

“Yes, sir.” Eric wiped his hands off on a cloth and followed Richard out to the wagons waiting to take them to the fields. His father was anxious partly because this grain was a new hybrid he was trying and had committed to growing it in a significant number of fields. If they didn't produce as much as he’d hoped it might be a leaner winter than they’d want. Also, the season was getting closer to when the Rak’ka would make daily appearances and getting the grain and his people underground in the caverns was a priority before the flocks passed over their farm. All hands were called to help with the harvest, and his father had even hired a few of the local boys to add to his usual crew of farmhands.

 

Dawn glimmered on the edge of the world as Eric drove one of the grain wagons out to the fields. The morning was brisk, and he wished he’d brought his jacket. He’d warm up quick enough once the harvesting started. Scything was hard work, and as the sun came up, he’d be sweating before he knew it.

 

A group of men and boys waited near the new fields, most throwing a cheerful good morning to Eric and his father. They’d be paid in a portion of the harvest, plus some of the last hatching of chickens. Eric and his father would also help them with their crops. Richard Bittle believed in giving all a share of his and his son’s labour. It was, he said, the best way to survive on this beautiful but often harsh planet.

 

Eric helped pass out scythes to those without, although most had brought their own and chattered away with some of the older men, asking after their families. He frowned at a few of the boys his age, an unease settling in his stomach. He knew most, and one or two of them were trouble, but in times of hard work, beggars couldn't be choosers and all hands were needed.

 

Jumping down from the back of the wagon, he ran into Toby and John, two of Karl Gustav's boys. He ruffled the head of one of the two youngsters. They’d be running errands and watching the sky and were ready to send out the alarm if the sky darkened with Rak’ka.

 

The field soon filled with hard work, song and the occasional raucous joke as the day brightened. Eric’s back and face drenched in sweat, he paused for a moment to wipe his brow, glancing around to see how far down the field they'd gone. In a relatively short span of time, they’d accomplished a lot, and two of the wagons were filled with straw heavily laden with grain. It would be a good harvest.

 

He bent down, his scythe making short work of the patch in front of him. Gathering the straw, he heard Andy MacMillan hiss at him, one of the biggest bullies in the area.

 

“Psst! Hey, Bittle!”

 

Eric ignored it. He knew what was coming.

 

“Hey, Bittle! Get your call yet?”

 

Eric sighed internally and kept working, staunchly trying to ignore it.

 

“Hey! Winger!” followed by a snicker and the sound of two ignorant piles of excrement pushing each other, laughing at their mediocre attempts at humour. Eric kept moving.

 

A few hours of backbreaking labour and Richard called for a break. Toby and John ran back and forth from one of the empty wagons with cheese and rolls and flasks of water. The men stood around talking, sharing news of the surrounding settlements, asking after family, discussing how preparations were coming for the encroaching winter. Eric stood nearby, munching away at his roll and cheese. He was lost in thought when Andy sidled up to him. “Hey, Bittle! Got your wings yet?”

 

“Yanno, Andy, that was funny like, seven years ago.” He swallowed his last bite of food and washed it down with a swig from his flask.

 

“What’s the matter, Bittle? No set of Wings is ever gonna adopt you. You’re too itty bitty.”

 

“Seriously? That’s the best you can come up with? Getting up early is hard on your brains, ain’t it?”

 

“Does your Daddy know? Does he know you want to join that buncha cocksuckers? Did you ever tell him?”

 

Eric set down his flask and turned toward Andy and his brother Geoff, crossing his arms. “My father knows. He also has great respect for the Wings. Even if he doesn’t approve of everything they get up to, he knows they deserve our loyalty. They protect us all from the Rak’ka, including your worthless hides. He would not appreciate listening to your mouths running off and calling ‘em names.”

 

“You know shit, Bittle.”

 

Eric turned his back, hoping to end this ridiculous conversation. A hand grasped his shoulder and spun him around. “Does your Daddy also know what you get up to when he’s not looking? Does he know about you and Tim O’Reilly last spring? I’m sure he’d be interested in finding out.” Andy’s big unpleasant face hovered only inches from his own, a spiteful gleam in his piggy eyes. A leaded weight filled his stomach. No, his father did not know, and he’d like to keep it that way.

 

Cocking his head to the side, his words reflecting a bravery he did not feel, Eric asked, “Did you like what you saw Andy? Would you like to try it sometime? Not that I’d waste my time with you, but I might know others who might.” It was risky talking to Andy like this, but he was tired of the constant bullying from idiots like him.

 

“Why you little…” He didn’t get to finish as the call to get back to work echoed over the fields. “Later Bittle, you and me.” He stomped off, picking up his scythe and swung it dangerously. Eric sighed again and found a section of the field far away from where Andy and Geoff were working. He didn't want to have to tell his father about some of their conversation, but he would, if only to give him a head’s up about what a danger he could be. He hoped he wouldn't have to bring up what he and Tim had got up to last spring.

 

They packed up and headed for the caverns for lunch and Eric helped with the pies to be baked for the evening, the constant feel of Andy's eyes on him making his skin crawl.

 

Returning to the fields, he worked away for a bit, bending and stooping, back aching, until his father came up to him and asked if he could take an empty wagon to the homestead and get the honing stones. Somehow they’d been left behind, and the scythes were quickly becoming dull.

 

“And take Andy and Geoff MacMillan with you.”

 

“But…”

 

“Problem? Look, son, we’ve only got to get this field cleared and onto the next. The days are shortening, and there are only hours of daylight left. Get a move on.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

He jumped up into the driver’s seat and waited for Andy and Geoff to join him. He refused to acknowledge their presence when the big lumps finally showed and climbed next to him. Eric chirped to the horses and turned the wagon in direction home. Neither brother said a word to him the entire trip, but he felt the looks they shot each other. They were up to something and a sense of unease weighed him down. The wagon pulled up to the steel tool shed, and the three boys jumped down. Eric opened the shed with his key and handed Andy the tools necessary to sharpen the scythes.

 

They made short work of it, and as Eric turned to lock the door again, he was struck from behind. Andy jumped on his back and began pounding him, while Geoff stood looking. Eric tried to shake Andy off, but the heavier boy hung on like an angry cat, spitting, and hissing. After several punches to the ribs, Eric fell to the ground. He barely got his arms over his head when Andy began kicking him, curses and names raining down on him with each blow. “You fucking piece of shit! Fag! I’ll teach you to take it up the ass!” As the pain began blossoming, his conscious became more detached, and he seemed to float. Hovering near blacking out, he felt Andy drag him toward the shed and fling him roughly in. He couldn't have moved if he’d wanted to. The last thing he heard was Andy whispering if he ever told anyone who’d beaten him everyone would know he and Tim had been naked together and they’d be turned out of the community. Then the light disappeared, the sound of the door locking and he was left in darkness, cold and alone.

 

Waking up what seemed like hours later, the massive steel shed, built to withstand the ravages of a Rak’ka attack, was as dark as the inside of one of the creatures bellies. Eric moved cautiously, his body aching and stiff. He managed to sit up and leaned back against the closed door, head in his hands. His face felt puffy, and he was pretty sure he had several bruised ribs. Arms, chest and legs also sporting injuries he could feel as he checked himself over. Certain nothing was broken he sat and waited. There was nothing much else he could do. The door was too thick for anyone outside to hear him pounding or shouting out, and he didn't have the energy to stand and do it anyway. At some point, his father would have to come back to put away the tools. He only hoped he’d do it tonight and not when he finished the harvest.

 

The light in the shed, already dark, seemed to thicken with the approach of dusk, and the temperature dropped. He crawled over to the shelves and hunted around where he was certain he’d spotted some empty grain sacks and an old horse blanket. He spread the bags on the ground and covered up with the smelly blanket, shivering with heat loss. He didn't want to sleep in case he had a concussion, but he was so cold and tired. He nodded off shortly after, only to be aroused by the sound of the lock turning and his father’s panicked voice calling his name. The light from his lantern caused Eric’s puffy eyes to screw shut, and he held up a hand. His father gathered him up into his arms and carried him out to the waiting wagon. He didn't remember the ride back to the caverns nor his father taking him inside. The sound of Richard yelling for Suzanne roused him enough to understand his father, who rarely showed any affection, was scared for him. He passed out from the pain before he could see Suzanne’s worried face.

 

He woke up to the sound of his parents’ frantic whispers.

 

“Are you certain?”

 

“Yes. The little bastards had guilt written all over their faces. Neither of them is that smart and Geoff gave over as soon as he realized I’d tell their father.”

 

“You are telling him!”

 

“Suze, I can't. They know about Eric and Tim O’Reilly. If it gets out, they’ll both be shunned or worse.”

 

“And they can get away with this?” His mother was furious. But at the moment he felt too drugged and warm to care much about what they were saying.

 

“I’ll make sure they pay. They won't get away with any of it. But we need to get Eric away first and Tim as well.”

 

Realizing his mother was sobbing should have concerned him, but he really couldn't move, his limbs too heavy from whatever it was his mother had given him.

 

“What are we going to do?”

 

The last thing he heard his father say before he let the waves of exhaustion carry him away was his father say “We’ll send ‘em to Samwell.”


	3. Jack

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks mattsloved1 for checking this over
> 
> Who thought it would be a good idea to reinvent the wheel? Me I guess:P

Jack took the stone steps two at a time, his need to get to where he wanted to be five minutes ago drove his legs to move faster. He reached the top of the ledge and turned to the left, winding his way along the broad path. The crowd of people increased his irritation, as he maneuvered between the folk rushing on their own errands. Fortunately, most avoided touching Jaye. He ran impatient fingers through his hair. Jaye fluttered sympathetically. The soft sigh of _Shhh_ echoed in his head.

 

“Jacks!” A familiar voice called out behind him. “Jacko! Wait up!” Jack gritted his teeth. Even his love for Shits wouldn’t stop his march into his father’s Nest and demand some answers.

 

Shitty must have noticed the impatient look on Jack’s face because he hurried to his side.

 

“Whoa my man, what lit a fire under your Wings today? Greetings Jaye.”

 

Jack sighed as Jaye ruffled a hello and turned to resume his fast pace while talking to Shitty over his shoulder. “Apparently we’re getting new recruits today, and Papa is giving first dibs to Kent’s flight. Hello, Baran.”

 

“And you’re on your way to argue?” Shitty grinned and stepped up his pace until next to Jack while their Wings stretched out to touch. As his Primary, he was entitled to come with Jack and hear his plea for first dibs. Not that Jack necessarily wanted him there, but maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. He would, perhaps, be calmer with Shitty at his shoulder. This is why Shitty complimented him. This is why he chose him as Primary. He pushed him when he needed pushing, held his peace when necessary and always had his back.

 

“Promise me you’ll stay out of it?”

 

“No can do, Jacky my boy. You know your father loves me best.”

 

Jack snorted in agreement, his mood suddenly lighter.

 

They turned into the cavern that led to the rest of the Eyrie. There seemed to be more people than usual, which felt disconcerting, considering their numbers were down. Not as many recruits being sent to Samwell. There’d been grumbling and whispers of rumours that people felt it no longer necessary to give them the best and brightest of their young folk. Didn't help that the Southern Islands kept reporting Rak’ka attacks had been lessening this year. Jack wanted to send Poots’s flight down to investigate, but his father had cautioned against it until they had more information. That made him grit his teeth again. How could they get more information if they didn't investigate?

 

They reached the entrance to Bob’s Nest. On their way in they stopped and bowed to Bob’s Wings, hanging in rest. A few primaries, shifted and trembled in acknowledgment and then went back to sleep. Jack had always got along better with Raine than he had with Bob.

 

“Jack? Is that you? Jaye with you?” His mother’s soft voice called out.

 

“Yes, Maman. Shitty and Baran, too.”

 

He gave her a brief hug, and she smiled at him, cupping his cheek momentarily and then laid a calm hand on his Wings. She was one of the few who could touch them without making him cringe. Her own Wings were awake and fluttered on her back, and Jack and Shitty greeted them. She, like Jack, preferred to stay in contact. She said it made her feel more grounded. Jack understood what she meant. “Hello, Shitty and Baran. I can guess why you are here,” she smiled at them. “I told Bob you’d be around when you heard the news.”

 

“Is Papa busy?”

 

“Not for you sweetheart. Never for you.”

 

Jack chose not to argue but followed his mother further into their cavern.

 

Bob stood at his large wooden desk, bent over a map. Jack assumed it was the area surrounding Samwell. As he got closer, he frowned, because it looked more like Southern Island. Maybe he was rethinking their investigation. With a slight groan, his back stiff from bending over, Bob stood straighter and opened his arms wide.

 

“Jack, Shitty, I’m so happy to see you. I was going to send for you, but I figured you’d come when you heard the news.”

 

“Papa, why are you letting Kent’s flight get first dibs?” Jack didn't waste time with pleasantries. He had other things to do.

 

Bob frowned. “Who told you that?”

 

Jack glowered slightly.

 

“Ah, I see. No one. You assumed. Jack, why didn't you just ask? I’m not letting Kent’s flight pick from the new recruits. In fact, I wanted to offer it to you. It’s your turn, and you earned it. I’m sending Kent’s flight to Southern to speak with the leaders there and find out about these reports of lessening attacks. I’ve been thinking about what you said, about investigating it and I decided you’re right.” He smiled. “You know, I may not always agree with everything you come up with, but you have so many good ideas. It will help you when you lead Samwell Eyrie some day.”

 

Jack stiffened and clenched his fists. Why did his father insist on mentioning that every single time? It must have shown on his face because his father raised his hands in a placating manner. “I know you think you…”

 

“Papa, can we discuss this later? Tell me about the recruits.”

 

Bob rolled his eyes. “Fine. There are about five or six new people coming in from the outlying settlements, one from New Boston Eyrie. They’re mostly farmers and such so they should be good, solid individuals.”

 

“But the last group we got from the settlements failed completely. Not a single set of Wings would bond with them.”

 

Bob shrugged. “It happens. Not everyone is cut out for this life. And I know I’m assuming farming folk would be good stock, just because that’s where our family came from. But then your mother’s was from the crafts so you can never tell.” He winked at Alicia.

 

Jack held his tongue. His father’s relaxed manner was not something he’d inherited. He stood straighter when he heard _Hush he loves you._

_I know._

 

“They should be in after lunch. I would like you to be there to greet them.”

 

Jack nodded, curtly. “Is there anything else then?”

 

“No, but…”

 

“Then we’ll get going. Shits and I have drills to run with the rest of the flight.”

 

“Jack…”

 

“See you later, Papa.” Jack nodded to his mother and turned to leave. He could hear Shitty making proper goodbyes behind him. His mother would probably have words with him later.

 

“Jack, wait up.” He slowed his pace but kept walking. “Jack, you don’t…”

 

“Not now, Shitty, okay?”

 

“But…”

 

“Look,” Jack stopped and laid a hand on Shitty’s shoulder. “I know he loves me, but sometimes it’s a lot to bear. Just leave it.”

 

“Fine. Are we really going to run drills?”

 

“Of course. I said that, didn't I?” Jack looked puzzled. Shitty rolled his eyes.

 

“Of course. But then you owe me lunch.”

 

“I always owe you lunch.”

 

Shitty smiled, relief evident. At least he’d driven away Jack’s blue mood, even if only for a few moments.

 

~~~

 

After a good workout, running drills in the open-air arena, Jack, Shitty and several other members of their fFight, cleaned and stored the practise blades, showered, dressed and made their way down to the kitchens to eat something.

 

“I’m telling you, that last dive you made, Holtzy, that was incredible. You went straight down and then pulled back at the last second. Sweet! You and Ager have the tightest bond,” said Ransom.

 

“They insist we can do more like that, put it into use against the Rak’ha, just not sure how. Jack, what do you think?”

 

“Can’t be any worse than some of your other suggestions, “ Jack said, drily.

 

Holtz made huffing, sputtering noises while Rans slapped him between his Wings and doubled over with laughter.

 

The kitchens were surprisingly quiet. Even though it was past the usual lunch mealtime, there should still be the bustle of kitchen crew.

They lined up at the serving station, trays in hand. A familiar face greeted them.

 

“Hello boys!” said Camilla. “How was practise? How are your Wings today?”

 

A quiet murmur of ‘fine’ from most of the flight returned her greeting. Much more jovial greetings came from Shitty, Rans, and Holtz. Camilla smiled sunnily, dished out the hart stew in wooden bowls and passed it over to them. She saved the biggest serving for Jack and touched his hand as she handed him his bowl. Jack smiled back uncertainly and went to sit with the others. Rans and Holtz whooped as he sat down.

 

“What?”

 

“She’s got it bad for you, my son,” chuckled Shitty, shovelling in mouthfuls of the stew so fast Jack felt sure he’d choke.

 

“I’m sure she was just being pleasant.”

 

“Oh Jacks, you have no idea. She follows you with her eyes constantly.”

 

Feeling decidedly uncomfortable with where this conversation seemed headed, Jack changed the subject and mentioned that new recruits would arrive sometime after lunch.

 

“We get first dibs. I’m hoping we get more than one who's Wing worthy.”

 

The conversation turned more solemn as they discussed the need to replace those who had fallen during the last attack in the spring.

 

“Johnson will be hard to replace. Has anyone been to see him?” Shitty asked. Everyone looked uncomfortable, glancing down at their hands or out the corner of their eyes at one another.

 

“I went last night. He still isn’t talking. Hall said he might never. Some don’t.” Jack tried to not think about what it would mean to lose Jaye and shuddered.

 

_We’re not going anywhere._

_Sometimes I can’t help thinking that could have been us._

_It wasn't. We are still here. We will always be here with you, Jack._

 

Clamping down a sudden surge of fear, he folded his hands in front of him. “We can’t let Johnson’s accident get to us. Yes, that could have been any one of us. We must remember he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. We will always honour him in everything we do, but we will honour him the most by fighting as hard as we can and destroying as many Rak’ka as possible. Johnson will be missed, and we can’t replace him or what he meant to this Flight. In spite of that, we do need at least three more for the team, perhaps four.”

 

The rest of the meal was quiet. Holtz and Rans picked up the empty dishes after and took them to the kitchens to wash up.

 

Shitty and Jack stood up and made their way to the ground level entrance of the Eyrie.

 

“It wasn't your fault, Jacko. You know that, right?”

 

“No, I know, but Shits, whether for good or bad, I’m Captain of this Flight. That makes it my responsibility.”

 

“We should go see Johnson later.”

 

“Yeah, we should. Let’s go after supper tonight. Okay?”

 

A horn blew at the main entrance.

 

“They’re here.”

 

“They are. Let’s hope there’s someone, anyone worthy of Wings.”

 

“Let's.” Jack smiled at Shitty, a tinge of sadness. He was right. They couldn’t replace Johnson, but perhaps there would be someone in that group who would help make them one of the strongest Flights ever.

 

The gates of the entrance opened. A wagon pulled in, drawn by a magnificent set of horses. Pulling to a stop near Jack, he stepped forward to greet the driver, a familiar face to the Eyrie.

 

“Hello, young Jack. Greetings Jaye. How are you on this fine afternoon?”

 

“Greetings, Mark. What have you brought us?”

 

“A fine load of recruits for Wings plus some other sundries and delectables from the outer settlements. Also a letter for your father from one of the leaders.” He rummaged in his pouch and pulled out a sealed tube.

 

“Thank you. Shitty here and Baran will see to the recruits. I’ll take the letter if you don't mind.” He turned and whistled for some of the apprentices to come help unload. Mark handed him the letter. Jack noticed it bore the seal of the Bittle family, a small but prosperous farm near the Madison community. He tucked it into his belt and watched as Shitty greeted a gaggle of newcomers in his unique style. If they weren’t put off by Shitty, they passed the first test.

 

_They look younger ever year._

_It’s not like we’re that old._

_We know, but then they come in, fresh faced like that, it reminds us we’ve been doing this for a while. Oh!_

_What is it?_

_It’s nothing. Not really. Just a surprise to us. Something new._

_What?_

 

But Jaye refused to say anything else.

 

~~~

Eric stepped off of the wagon and slung his pack onto his back. Tim stepped down beside him and stretched. It had been a long ride to the Eyrie. They both looked around, as the other recruits made their way off of the wagon.

 

A young man, only slightly older than they were, stood nearby, his wings fluttering in the fresh air coming in through the open gates at the entrance. He had long brown hair and an impressive mustache. His Wings were of a similar colour of brown to his hair, but Eric could see glints of bronze and gold woven throughout the feathers.

 

“Welcome to Samwell Eyrie, my excellent set of recruits. You will be housed shortly in apprentice quarters and fed and watered. You will be presented to the Wings in a few days time after a series of questions and tests. If you are found worthy, well then we’ll tell you the next step. If you aren't, we will offer you a chance to stay here and live at the Eyrie or to find your path somewhere else. We can always use young people, and there are many opportunities for work. All are welcome. If you are accepted and bond with a set of Wings you will find yourself flying next to men and women, people from the Southern Islands to the Northern Plains. Religions, nationalities, cultures and gender identity are swept aside when you become one with your Wings. If you have a problem with that, we will still feed you before you make your way back to whatever little unimportant settlement you came from.” He grinned showing a full set of bright white teeth.

 

Eric shifted his bag, a sense of hope filling him, the first one he’d felt since his parents told him they were going to send him and Tim away.

 

_I think I might have found a place to belong._

_You have. Welcome, Eric. Welcome._

 

Eric frowned. “Did you say something?”

 

“Nope, but let’s hope the food here’s as good as your mother’s. I think I might stay here even if I don't get Wings.”

 

Eric grinned at him and for the moment pushed aside the strange voices in his head. He’d worry about that later.

 

Right now he was starving, and food came before deep thoughts about odd voices.

 

 


	4. Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So writing this off of my computer and on my iPad so we shall see how many errors I have made XD

The food, while not quite like his mother’s, tasted good; rich and filling even with the different spices that made it seem odd at first. A wave of homesickness washed over Eric. He sighed and put his fork down. The lump in his throat wouldn’t shift. His bruises and swollen mouth didn’t help either.

 

Tim, on the other hand shovelled food into his mouth so fast, Eric thought he’d choke.

 

“What’s the matter?” said a pleasant voice at his elbow. He turned to the young woman next to him. Shorter than he, with thick straight black hair, her dark eyes searched his face.

 

“My mother is the best cook on the planet and I miss her.”

 

“Fair enough. But, she isn’t here and your gonna starve if you don’t eat something. I don’t think your mother wants that.” The kindness in her tone didn't help and his eyes may have become a little blurry.

 

She held out a hand, palm up in formal greeting, “Larissa Duan, New Boston Eyrie.”

 

He covered it with his own. “Eric Bittle, Madison Settlement. Wow! You’re from another Eyrie? Why are you here?”

 

She shrugged. “Maybe I needed a change of scenery.” She glanced once more over the damage to his face and noted the way he held himself, careful of his ribs. “Maybe you did, too.” And returned to eating her dinner.

 

He looked down at his plate and gave it up as a bad job. He moved to get up and see if he could help in the kitchen when he felt someone standing behind him. Looking up into the face of a young man, older than himself, jet black hair framing his chiseled face and eyes the colour of a clear sky, he felt his stomach swoop. Before he could get any ideas romantic or otherwise, the young man spoke.

 

“If you are going to be part of a Flight,” his tone made that seem doubtful. “Then you need to eat more than that. Here,” he dumped a chunk of meat onto Eric’s plate and pushed it toward him. “Protein, necessary for stamina and to build muscle. You need to eat more.” He walked away.

 

Embarrassed and annoyed, Eric narrowed his eyes. I don’t think so. He gritted his teeth and turned to Tim. “Who the hell does he think he is?

 

“He thinks he’s the Captain of the most amazing Flight ever,”said another voice, friendlier, but still Eric bristled. “That, my son, is Jack Zimmermann, God in human form. And who are you? Aren’t you the cutest little thing?” The one with the moustache with the very unusual greeting at the gates smiled at Eric.

 

“Eric Bittle.”

 

“Well Eric Bittle, I would be careful around our Jack. He takes everything personally.”

 

“I’ll do my best, sir.”

 

A wicked gleam sparked in the moustached one’s eyes. “Sir! I like that, even though we’ve generally dispense with gendered titles here. You may call me Shitty.”

 

Eric’s eyes got bigger. “Ummm…”

 

“Long story. No time. And let me introduce you to Baran. They like to be the centre of attention so I will ask you to ask them for forgiveness for not addressing them first.”

 

A blush burned Eric’s face. “I am so sorry. My father will kill me if he finds out.” He stood as did the other recruits and bowed to Shitty and to the Wings. “Baran, please forgive my rudeness.”

 

_That’s okay. You’re new. We also think you are cute._

 

Eric happened to be watching Shitty’s face and he knew he hadn’t said anything. His mouth fell open.

 

Shitty frowned. “You okay?”

 

“Umm, yeah, sorry. I didn't mean to ignore Baran.” He wasn’t about to tell this person he’d just met that he’d heard his Wings. Bad enough he’d been rude, worse if he thought he was speaking with Baran privately.

 

“No worries. Just make sure you always address the Wings. Some,” and he glanced in the direction the Captain had left, “Will take offence. Now if you are all finished, take your plates to the counter. At some point in the week you will all be doing duty in there so take note of where things are located. We’re going to go on a little tour and then I will show you to the guest barracks where you will stay until the Wings decide whether you are worthy.”

 

The recruits all scrambled up from the table, Tim looking forlorn as if he wished he’d been able to eat more. They walked over to the counter and were directed to separate the leftovers. Meat went into a special container while the vegetables were scrapped into a compost bucket.

 

“Where does the leftover meat go?” Eric asked curious as to what they did with it.

 

Shitty grinned, a bit feral. “It’s for the Wings, although they prefer raw. The fresher the better, but they generally don’t let it go to waste.”

 

Eric could tell by the glances they were giving each other this was news to all of them, except perhaps Larissa.

 

There was so much he didn't know or took for granted.

 

Shitty led the group of six to the inside of the kitchen. Eric was pleased to see it held several ovens for baking bread and desserts as well as the huge roasting spits. The kitchen was immaculate and his own mother would have approved of the orderliness. A young man with brilliantly red hair appeared to be in charge. Curious, for Eric was the only male who showed any interest in cooking on their settlement, he watched as the man directed the cooks and spoke of plans for the next day meals. Frowning, he glanced over at Eric as if sensing him.

 

“That is our amazing Dex. He is in charge of our comforts and our stomachs. If he ever gets his Wings we will rejoice but also be bereft.” Shitty waved at Dex.

 

Dex waved back but continued as if not interrupted.

 

_At least there will be some place for me to work if I don’t get Wings._

 

_Don’t worry. You will. You will be the best._

 

Frowning, Eric said,”Did you say something?”

 

“I said we’ll be bereft. Dex is an amazing organizer and a decent cook himself. He works better directing but not everyone can run a kitchen.”

 

“Eric could,” said Tim.

 

“Aren't you full of surprises.”

 

Shitty took them all through the Eyre. Occasionally Larissa would point out differences between Samwell and New Boston, but mostly stayed silent. The others were impressed by the overall size, although Eric noticed there weren’t as many people as there seemed room for.

 

“We usually have more. There’s a few out and about, reconnaissance, patrols, things like that.” Although said in his usual cheerful manner, Eric noted he seemed strained as if he didn’t want them to notice there didn't seem to be that many people.

 

Finally, they were led to the guest quarters. Their packs had already been brought up. Each recruit had their own room, a small but comfortable space, with a bed and a small clothes box, a night stand with a dish of embers and a jug of water. They were directed to the conveniences. Running water and showers were available instead of the settlement typical tubs of water.

 

Exhausted, Eric couldn't wait to climb into bed. It had been a long day. His ribs and sore muscles protested the exertion he’d put them through. About to go and shower, Shitty pulled him aside as the others made their way to their own rooms.

 

“Do you need to see the physician? You seem to be in some pain.”

 

Eric looked into the kind face. “I’m mostly healed or as good as, except for my ribs and rainbow face. Tired. My muscles are protesting the long day, but I’m okay.”

 

Shitty nodded, still searching Eric’s face. “You sure? All right then. Know that fighting isn’t tolerated in a Flight.” He paused. “I suspect you don’t need to be told that.”

 

Eric shook his head and then nodded. “I didn’t start it.”

 

“I didn't think you had. I wasn't warning you. I was letting you know. You’ll be okay here, young Eric.” He nodded and left.

 

Eric watched him go. Thoughtful, he went back into his room to grab a towel from his pack and a sleep shirt and made his way back to the convenience. He found an empty shower stall and slowly undressed. One of the new recruits whistled.

 

“What happened to you? Are you all right? Do you need help?”

 

Eric smiled. “I’m all right. Let’s just say it was an accident and leave it at that. Okay?”

 

“Sure. I’m Chris. Chris Chow. It’s so exciting to be here. Aren’t you excited?”

 

Normally Eric’s own enthusiasm would match Chris’s, but tiredness overwhelmed him, so he just smiled and nodded. Perhaps tomorrow he'd be better able to be himself. Perhaps he’d fit in better. There seemed to be a general air of embracing who you are rather than having it shunned or suppressed but he also knew he would have to wait and see if this held true. Just because people said it didn't mean it really was. Look at Jack, already so judgemental about his size. How would he really react about his feelings for boys?

 

If his own family didn't approve how could complete strangers.

 

The hot shower proved to be just the thing for his sore body but left him even more tired. Changed into his sleep shirt, he gathered up his belongings and made his way back to his room. When he got there, Tim waited for him.

 

Tim stood up and crossed to Eric, gingerly hugging him, mindful of his injuries. He looked at Eric and leaned in for a kiss. Eric held up his hand, holding him back.

 

“Tim,” he said.

 

Tim pouted. “Don’t you want to? No one cares here.”

 

Eric shook his head. “I’m exhausted, I still hurt and they might say they don’t care but we don’t know the rules yet. I’d like to be here a few days before we start anything.” He also wanted to see if their headlong hormonal feelings still held up here in a new environment. Sex was great but they had a chance for something more than staving off boredom and simply relieving themselves.

 

Tim pouted. “Eric,” he whined.

 

Eric sighed. Tim’s immaturity didn’t help his case into keeping a relationship.

 

“What? We’re great together. You had fun. I had fun. I really like you, Eric.”

 

“I like you too, Tim, but I’m tired. Let’s just wait and see. Please? It’s a lot to take in right now. There’s so much new out here, so much more than we thought back at the settlement.”

 

Tim nodded. “I guess. But I really like you Eric. I don’t want to lose this.”

 

Eric sighed. “I know. But just give it a bit. Please?”

 

“Fine. I guess I’ll go back to my room.”

 

He left without saying goodnight. Eric knew he’d hurt his feelings but he’d have to get over it.

 

He closed the door to his room and crawled into bed, putting the cover over the ember dish. He snuggled down into the pillow and fell asleep.

  
~~~

Jack quietly left the room where Johnson lay, his eyes closed, seemingly unaware. Shitty closed the door behind them. It hurt them and Baran and Jaye, to see someone Wingless. A shudder thinking about it one more time couldn't be controlled in spite of Jaye’s whispered reassurances.

 

Simple bad planning and a missed turn had caused Jamie’s death. Quick thinking had caused Rans and Jaiyesimi to save Johnson. Jack wondered, not for the first time, if that was what Johnson wanted, if being saved but losing the other half of his soul was worth it.

 

Jaye ruffled their wings, becoming agitated.

 

“Sorry,” Jack said. He didn't often address Jaye out loud. Jaye let go, retracting their claws from his back and scooted around to Jack’s arms. He held them tight, stroking the soft feathers. He could still hear Jaye’s thoughts but muted as if from a distance.

 

Shitty wiped his face, his usually merry expression missing.

 

“Jack, you know that what happened to Johnson and Jamie wasn’t…”

 

Jack held up his hand. He knew. He just didn't want or need this conversation again.

 

“Shits, leave it.”

 

Nodding, Shitty clapped him on the back and left, heading back to his own Nest.

 

Hugging Jaye harder, Jack looked into the bright blue multitude of eyes, same shade as his own, normally hidden from him when their head tucked into their body behind his back.

 

“Jaye,” he said and Jaye who knew his every thought and feeling, spread his wings, wide and warm and draped over his chest. They clicked their beak and extended their neck to rub against his face.

 

_Love you, Jack. Never leave us._

 

 _Never_.

 

 


	5. Preparation

Some internal clock woke Eric and he could almost hear his mother’s voice. For a minute he forgot home was far away. The dark in the windowless room almost felt smothering and he felt unsure of the time. Swatting a hand around, he knocked against the bedside table and managed to touch the ember basket. The cover came off a bit to light the room.

 

Blinking and rubbing at his face, he stretched and threw back the covers, muscle memory guiding his sleepy brain.

 

Not as stiff today and he had a larger range of motion to his movements. He could tell the bruising was fading. Shucking off his sleep shirt, he threw on some clothes cleaner than the ones he’d worn yesterday. Those were all covered with trail dust and sweat; he'd need to find where he could do some washing.

 

He made his way to the convenience to relieve his bladder, wash his hands and face and tried to remember the way to the kitchen. Getting turned around once, he finally found it. Kitchen folk were already in full swing getting the morning meal ready. He stood awkwardly in the doorway hoping someone would notice him but everyone was far too busy so he crept in and found the young man with the red hair.

 

“Excuse me, Mr. Dex, sir?”

 

“What do you want? Breakfast isn't ready yet. Come back in about an hour.”

 

“No, I wondered if you’d like some help? I'm use to helping at the settlement see, I…I thought maybe you could use a hand.”

 

Surprised, Dex looked him up and down and squinted a bit. “Can you do bread?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Pastry?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Soup, stew, prepare fruit and vegetables?”

 

“Yes, yes, yes, and yes. I help my mother all of the time feed the harvest crews and doing preserves, storing food for the settlement and such.”

 

“All right. Until you gets Wings or you leave or don’t get Wings and stay you can help. And it’s just Dex.”

 

Once he set himself up at one of the wooden countertops, he got to work making bread. Someone had already started to mix some dough and left to rise. He shaped that into loaves and put them in the ovens, first testing the temperature with his elbow.

 

Watching him, the corners of Dex’s mouth turned up in the approximation of a smile. “We have thermometers.”

 

Eric nodded, continued testing the temperature the way his Mama and her Mama had shown him and went back mixing more dough. Too much bread always seemed preferable to not enough.

 

After he finished mixing and putting more loaves into the ovens, he shifted some of the flour until fine and mixed in lard. Carefully, he added some cold water from the store room and made pastry. He hunted around and found the sugar, some apples and the last of the plums and made several dozen turnovers. As he finished putting them in the oven, the rest of the Eyrie had begun to stir. Flight crews and regular folk came stumbling into the dining area. Dex and some of the others set out fresh bread, eggs, bowls of fruit, some meat, mostly canja duck by the looks of it, jugs of coffee and as soon as they were ready, Eric’s piping hot turnovers.

 

Hungrier than he’d been last night, Eric heaped his plate and made his way over to where Tim sat with Larissa, Chris and the rest of the new recruits. Besides a few muttered groans and grunts of good morning, no one talked much. Larissa passed him a jug of hot coffee. Silently thanking the early settlers for having the wherewithal to bring this delicacy from Old Earth and the ability to adapt it to their new planet, he poured himself a large mug.

 

Tim bit into a turnover.

 

“Wings alive, have you tried these? They're almost better than yours, Eric.”

 

Eric laughed, feeling lighter than since he’d been attacked. “They are mine.”

 

Tim blushed and muttered a hasty apology but Eric didn't care. The rest of the recruits complimented him and when word spread through the dining area, Dex came out of the kitchen and again offered Eric a place in the kitchen either with or without Wings.

 

“Even if you are chosen and bond with a set of Wings, it will take time for them to mature. You’ll be expected to care for your Wings, but you’ll also be called upon to help out throughout the Eyrie. You can all try different areas in the Eyrie so maybe have an idea in mind where you might want to be, kitchens, farming or animal husbandry, crafts, housekeeping and maintenance. You might wish to give each job a try to see what best suits you. I use to work in maintenance but found my niche in the kitchen. If I am honoured with a bonding, I will ask someone else to run the kitchen but I will still cook. It’s what we do besides train. Everyone pulls their weight.”

 

The small group looked around at each other surprised, except once again Larissa, who quietly said, “I am good at organizing and keeping track of supplies. I like inventory. What?” She said looking around at the surprised faces. “I like doing it. It’s satisfying. Putting things where they belong.” It was the most any of them had heard her say. “I also like to do art but I’m sure there’s not a lot of call for that. There wasn’t at my old Eyrie.”

 

Dex titled his head and smiled, “You’d be surprised. Our leader’s wife was from a crafts settlement. I’ll drop a word with her, but definitely there is always work to do organizing.”

  
  
He returned to the kitchen and they finished eating. After they'd cleaned up their dishes, Shitty came over. The recruits bowed to his Wings.

 

“Good morning, Baran,” Eric said quietly. Shitty’s Wings fluttered but there were no voices.

 

“Good morning, my beauteous recruits. I am here to take you to the Hatchery, to show you where you will stand when the Wings come forth to grace you with their presence. I will introduce you to members of my Flight, the single greatest fucking group of humans you will ever meet. If you bond, you lucky bastards might join us. Some of the Flight will be in charge of your instruction before and after your bonding. They will teach you everything you will need to know and that may include the ability to chug copious amounts of alcohol. Do not let that intimidate you. Embrace your inner barbarian.” He winked and grinned at them and led the way down an inner hall, deeper into the Eyrie.

 

They walked far into the mountain until they came to a rather large well lit cavern. Shitty explained the creators and builders of the Eyrie had worked wonders in bringing light inside by some ancient means. The bright light made them squint. Able to see again, the hairs on Eric’s arm rose and looked around in amazement.

 

Large platforms had been built all around the interior. The platforms looked a little like trees but were manmade structures. On each platform a large nest had been built. Some of were huge, large enough that all of the recruits could have curled up together and slept comfortably. Many were much smaller and Eric sensed they were newer.

 

Standing in this cavern, next to the other recruits was a dream he never thought he’d see come to pass as much as he’d hoped and wished for it. He finally made it to the Hatchery and soon he might be presented to the Wings for bonding. He saw Shitty was watching him and noticed his eyes were filled with tears.

 

“It never gets old. Every time I come here I remember the moment Baran hatched and they looked at me with their green eyes. It is a truly awesome and humbling moment to think these amazing creatures would choose someone like me.” He wiped at his eyes and cleared his throat. “Yes, I was talking about you!” He said over his shoulder. “All right then. In a few days time,” and he swept his arm out to point toward one of the larger nests, “the occupants of that nest will be hatching and you will assemble here. The nest look inaccessible but they are created that way to resemble the Wings natural habitat. I will take you up in a few minutes to see the eggs. You will stand inside and wait for the Wings to come out. If you bond, they will come to you. They are small and fragile so if you sense they are making their way to you you are allowed to help. If you are chosen,” he cleared his throat again and wiped at his eyes, “it will be the most glorious unfurling believable moment of your life.”

 

Leading the way up to the nest he’d indicated earlier, he took them to the back to a set of hand holds built into the base of the structures. After they all reached the top, with Tim huffing and puffing a bit, they stepped carefully into the nest. It was large and able to hold all of them with room for more. Two Wings filled the nest, wings spread out. Shitty bowed to them. The recruits followed suit.

 

“With your permission Joy and Myra, these recruits, who may bond with your hatchlings, would like to see your eggs. I promise we will be respectful.” The Wings hummed slightly and slowly uncovered the eggs.

 

The recruits sighed. Inside the nest were about eight to ten eggs, much larger than a canja duck’s. The eggs had a slight glow to them and every once in a while one would rock.

 

“Aren’t they the prettiest things you ever did see,” Eric breathed.

 

_Thank you. We have high hopes for this hatching._

 

Eric shook his head and tried to ignore it. He should really mention it to Shitty.

 

Shitty took several minutes to explain that when the time came they would stand around the eggs. They would be joined by several other recruits, ones, like Dex who hadn’t bonded at the last Hatching. “We try to give a variety so the Wings have choice. You may not bond this time but are welcome to stay and try at another Hatching.”

 

As they turned to go, Joy and Myra’s bond mates came up the stairs carrying buckets of fresh meat and smiled at the recruits.

 

“Jenny, Mandy, you’re Wings have a lovely clutch of eggs. Recruits thank the Wings and their bond mates.”

 

Eric and the rest bowed to the Wings again and to Jenny and Mandy. The young women waved and went about caring for their Wings. As Eric left the next he noticed that Jenny and Mandy were leaning close together and Mandy leaned in to kiss Jenny on the cheek. It made him smile and it gave him hope that perhaps he had found a place to belong.

~~~

It had been a long day of scrambling all over the Eyrie and listening to Shitty explain the duties of the Flight. They got to meet some of the members. Eric found himself rather liking Holtz and Rans. He even got to stroke the soft feathers of Holtz’s Ager, who according to Holtz, pretty much liked everybody. Rans held out his Wings, Jaiyesimi, and showed the recruits the claws. Gently pulling their feet out of the mass of feathers he held one of the toes and showed how the claws were more like a tube. Inside were another set of claws, these thin and needle-like.

 

“When you bond, the Wings climb on your back. These needles extend and pierce you.” He hastened to reassure them as some, like Tim, looked a little green. “It doesn't hurt. The Wings release a chemical into your bloodstream and the claws are so thin you can’t even tell. You get this euphoric feeling of connecting with your bond mate that over rides all pain. The original creators of the Wings made them symbiotic with their human partners.”

 

“How do you fly?” Asked Tim. “How do they hold you up?”

 

“We then wear these special harnesses,” he showed them his set, “and the Wings hook into it and you fly!”

 

Holtz said, “They are incredibly strong and can lift you and another person if they have too. Rans and I are two of the larger members of the Flight and Jaiyesimi and Ager can lift either of us and the other set of Wings. Of course this is important during mating.”

 

Tim asked, “Mating?”

 

Holtz and Rans looked at each other and grinned.

 

“Well yeah, how else do you think we get more Wings?” said Holtz. “They mate and let me tell you that is probably the best time you will ever have. Way better than regular sex, am I right?” He held his fist up to Rans who bumped it back.

 

Tim still looked confused and none of the other recruits seemed to want to ask. Larissa just looked bored.

 

“You’ll find out. It’s part of orientation, after.”

 

The recruits were dismissed for the evening meal. Although they had stopped for a quick break earlier, they hadn’t eaten much since breakfast and hurried to the kitchen.

 

After dinner, Eric stayed to chat with Dex about incorporating time into helping and then he made his way to his room.

 

On the way, he ran into Jack, Captain of the flight he would be assigned to if he got his Wings. JAck who seemed not too impressed with him.

 

_He doesn't get a say on whether you get Wings._

 

Eric startled and looked back over his shoulder but they were alone. Remembering what Shitty had said about Jack liking protocol, he bowed to Jack and to the Wings. Jack lifted an eyebrow, and it seemed like he would just pass by without speaking, but he paused and stood awkwardly in the passageway.

 

Eric looked at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something.

 

Jack shuffled his feet. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

 

_Are you okay? Are you tired? Please excuse him, he doesn't mean to be rude._

“Jaye says I should ask if you are settling in?”

 

“They do, do they?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Eric didn't say anything.

 

Jack cleared his throat, waiting.

 

_It’s hard for him to ask. He lives in his head too much. You would be good for him, we think._

 

Eric opened his mouth to ask if it was normal to hear other people's Wings. Before he could, a deep hum filled the air around them. It could be felt through the soles of Eric’s thick boots.

 

Jack lifted his head and glanced around. “Come, we haven’t much time. Gather the other recruits.”

 

“What for?”

 

Jack looked so cross Eric almost backed away.

 

“It’s time. The eggs are hatching.”

 

 


End file.
